


Summer, Pastries, and Sex

by KillerLaurel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Funny, M/M, Morgana is the British government, Pancakes, Sniper - Freeform, nice!Uthur, weird shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerLaurel/pseuds/KillerLaurel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is the hardworking owner of Camelot Books, and independent bookstore. Merlin works for Morgana, who is the British government, the British secret service, and the CIA on a freelance basis. Uthur is Prime Minister and a family man. Merlin likes to bake. Lancelot is a cat. Weird shit happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer, Pastries, and Sex

“You need to get laid, little brother,” Morgana let a stream of smoke leave her perfectly painted red lips.  
“Yes, Morgana, but I don’t need you to arrange it for me,” Arthur said through clenched teeth. Morgana set aside her electronic cigarette (she would never smoke for real!) and glared at Arthur from across the desk.  
“Seriously Arthur, you haven’t gone clubbing with us in at least a month and, unless you’re getting some, you need to get laid. Before you kill every single one of your overworked staff.”  
“Did my secretary call you?”  
“Leon? He’s your bodyguard, not your secretary.”  
“He does the job though, doesn’t he?”  
“You’re hopeless.”  
“Now you’re getting it.”  
“And I don’t care. I’m finding you a man, if it’s the last thing I do on Earth.”  
“You mean, before you die and go to rule Hell as its rightful monarch?”  
“It is my birthright.”  
“After you conquer the world, right?”  
“Don’t be silly, Arthur. I’m quite satisfied with being the British government.”  
“And the British secret service, and the CIA on a freelance basis?”  
“Correct. And I just so happen to know an absolutely adorable guy. he’s perfect for you.”  
“I don’t do adorable guys, Morgana. In fact, I don’t do guys; they do me.”  
“Idiot. And, I know, so it’s good he’s completely dangerous inside, isn’t it?”  
“You’re crazy. And delusional.”  
“And you’re coming with me.” Morgana grabbed Arthur’s wrist and dragged him forcibly out of his chair, around the desk, and through his office door.  
“I’ll scream rape!” Arthur protested as he was dragged along behind Morgana. Leon gave him a wide smile. “Traitor!”  
“Shut up, Arthur.”  
On their way to the parking garage, Arthur cast out pleading looks, but only a couple of his employees had the decency to look sheepish. The rest grinned like seeing their boss dragged out by his tyrannical sister for some sort of blind date was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.  
“You’re all traitors!” they heard Arthur calling out as the elevator doors shut.  
Arthur was a mess; he had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was mussed, his white shirt barely tucked in, and his tie loosened. Morgana confiscated the tie, tucked his shirt in, and mussed his hair into a fashionable mess instead of a sleep deprived one. There was nothing she could do about the circles except to send Arthur into the first floor restroom to wash up. He emerged looking much more refreshed if still a little tired.  
“So are we going clubbing in the middle of the day?” Arthur asked dryly.  
“Of course not, you idiot. Merlin is meeting us at that little cafe on the corner.”  
“Brilliant,” Arthur complained sarcastically. “His name is Merlin. What kind of name is that?”  
“An adorable one. Shut up.”  
“So where did you find this dangerous, adorable Merlin?”  
“Jail.”  
“What. The. Fuck. Morgana? What have you done this time?”  
“Shut up, Arthur. He’s not a criminal or anything.”  
“Then why was he in jail?”  
“It was a misunderstanding,” Morgana brushed aside his  concerns. “In any case, he’s perfect for you.”  
“Then why do I feel such deep misgivings already?”  
“Because you’re a fool.”  
They were at the cafe, a little place with a great bakery, and Morgana manhandled him inside and into a booth.  
“Hey,” Arthur stopped glaring at Morgana long enough to glance at the man sitting across from him. And then it just wasn’t a glance. Arthur stared. Morgana stomped on his foot with one of her killer devil heels.  
“Ow! Shit, Morgana!” Arthur glared at her again. The man laughed. Arthur stared. “Oh, um, hey?”  
“So, you’re Arthur? Morgana’s told me a ton about you.” Arthur liked his smile. It was wide and kindly and goofy and made Arthur want to grin too. He was pale, and skinny, was scruffy dark hair and deep blue eyes. Arthur liked those eyes. They made him want to drown in them.  
“All the bad stuff, right?”  
“Pretty much. She said she managed to get you to dress up in all her dresses when you were seven.”  
“God,” Arthur groaned.  
“If it helps, she also told me you’re stupidly noble.”  
“No, that doesn’t help,” Arthur groaned again miserably.  
“I was in jail?” Merlin asked as if that should make Arthur feel better.  
“Morgana said that. She also said you weren’t a criminal,” Arthur felt bad because his tone was slightly accusatory.  
Merlin shrugged. Arthur liked that movement. He also liked Merlin’s neck. “Misunderstanding.”  
“That’s what she said.”  
“There was some confusion regarding who the pound of coke belonged to,” Merlin explained with another shrug. “It was my ex’s, and Morgana helped me out. I did spend a week in jail though.”  
“And he was ruling the place by the time I sprang him,” Morgana commented and both men jumped in their seats and turned to stare at her. She was smirking. Arthur felt like he deserved it; he’d gotten so caught up in Merlin that he hadn’t noticed that Morgana had claimed the seat next to him.  
“Morgana?” Merlin asked.  
“You want me to leave?”  
“It is sort of awkward having my boss along on a date with my boss’s brother,” Merlin pointed out. Arthur half nodded, then froze and turned, ever so slowly, a look of horror plastered on his face, to look at Merlin.  
“You work for Morgana?”  
“Yes? How is it possible you make that sound worse than being in jail on drug charges?”  
“Maybe because it is worse, to him,” Morgana suggested.  
“How’s that?” Merlin was curious. Both Morgana and Merlin turned to look at Arthur, expecting him to answer.  
“If you haven’t noticed, Morgana enjoys spying on people.”  
“And you think I’m an attempt by her to spy on you?”  
“She hasn’t offered you money yet?”  
“Is that a common practice?” Merlin asked, smiling.  
“With Morgana, it tends to be, yes.”  
“I’m not going to offer money to someone I want my brother to actually date,” Morgana defended herself with a smirk.  
“You offered money to my landlady, my flat-mate, the grocer I go to, the lesbians across the street, my ex-girlfriend, two of my ex-boyfriends, and my cat.”  
“A cat?” Merlin seemed like he was trying really hard not to laugh.  
“I didn’t offer money to your cat!”  
“Well, you bribed him, and now he loves you more than me. It’s the same thing.”  
“You know, as much as the whole sibling rivalry is entertaining, I think I’m going to leave now,” Merlin said because Morgana and Arthur were arguing about the cat.  
“No!” Arthur said at the same time that Morgana shouted, “Sit down!”  
Merlin sat back down.  
“So what do you do?” Merlin asked Arthur when the cat argument ran down to a glaring match.  
“I run a small, independent book store.”  
“‘Small’,” Morgana snorted. “It takes up three floors. Any business with an elevator, three floors of merchandise, and a center for lost children is not small, Arthur.”  
“I like books,” Merlin said, keeping an eye on Morgana who seemed determined to fix whatever they said.  
“‘Like’,” she smirked, “You were an author, Merlin. I think that counts as a bit more than merely liking books.”  
“Author? What’s you write?”  
“Fantasy,” Merlin replied before Morgana could chime in. “I wrote under the name Emrys.”  
“I’ve heard of you then.”  
“I would hope so,” Morgana sniffed. “You work in a bookstore.” Both Merlin and Arthur turned to stare at her in exasperation.  
“Morgana!” Merlin hissed.  
“What?” she seemed genuinely confused.  
“If you have to keep an eye on us, can’t you do it from that camera just outside the window? And maybe keep your commentary to yourself?” Merlin suggested.  
Arthur glanced outside and up, and sure enough there was a camera just outside their window. Someone with Morgana’s power could easily manipulate it so she could spy on them.  
“But it’s much more entertaining to be right here. It’s not as fun to make witty comment when there’s no one around to hear them.”  
“Morgana, if you don’t leave, I’m never going on another date with Arthur.” That did it. Morgana grabbed her purse, jumped out of the booth, said her hurried goodbyes, and rushed out the door, still waving at them.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get rid of Morgana that quickly before,” Arthur said, still a little shell shocked by Morgana’s abrupt departure.  
“It’s not that hard when you know what she wants. It’s even easier when I control what she wants.”  
“That sounds disturbingly familiar. No wonder you and she get along, if you think like that.”  
“It was an aquired mindset.”  
“So, you wouldn’t be working for Morgana if you were still writing,” Arthur attempted to start and normal conversation.  
“You want to know what I do for her?” Merlin’s eyes glittered as he smiled, “But I can’t tell you.”  
“It’s classified, is it?”  
“Pretty much. Morgana forbid me from telling you until we’ve had sex.” Arthur, who had taken a sip of the ice water the waitress had provided, promptly choked. “Whoa!” Merlin moved around the table to pat Arthur on his back.  
“She said that?” Arthur asked weakly when he had recovered. Merlin nodded, and Arthur banged his forehead gently against the table, going, “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh god. Fuck. _Morgana_.”  
“If it helps, she didn’t threaten to fire me if I didn’t sleep with you,” Merlin offered.  
“No, that doesn’t help. I’m going to kill her.”  
“If you tried, I’d have to kill you,” Merlin said lightly, but there was a serious undertone to it. Arthur glanced up at him. There was no way Merlin was another of Morgana’s bodyguards.  
“There’s no way you’re another of Morgana’s bodyguards,” he said.  
“Not a bodyguard, per se,” Merlin shrugged. “So, what are you going to order?” he asked, picking up his menu.  
“Can’t I just leave?”  
“No. By now, Morgana will be set up across the street with a sniper,” Merlin grinned. Arthur tried to grin, but it was a weak attempt. Knowing Morgana, she probably did have a sniper watching him. Morgana seemed a lot more fond of Merlin than some of her other employees; it wasn’t inconceivable that she’d fire a warning shot if Arthur tried to escape. He was trapped in the date, but at least he was trapped with Merlin, who was an interesting person.

* * *

  
Arthur decided that it was not a good thing to be trapped with Merlin. The man was perfect; he was handsome and entertaining and distracting. Arthur had spent the whole of their “date” trying not to stare as Merlin ate his ice cream sundae. Eating ice cream had to be one of the most obscenely erotic things he’d ever seen done with food. And Merlin’s lips... Anyhow, Arthur had failed miserably at not being distracted, and thus failed at being a good date. His conversation had been all start and stop and awkward and he’d been scared out of his mind that Morgana was about to kill him for being horrible to Merlin and Arthur could feel himself getting hysterical and tried to take deep breaths.

He banged his forehead repeatedly on his desk, drawing curious, worried looks from the employees who passed by his open door. Leon had tried asking about the date, but given up when all Arthur would do was groan incoherently.

****

* * *

  
_“Merlin. Report.”  
“Target at distance of seven hundred meters. Adjusting point oh seven degrees by point oh three degrees. Wind speed of ten kilometers north east. Taking the shot.”  
“Don’t miss.”  
“I never do.”  
_

* * *

  
Arthur woke up because someone was banging on his door. Loudly. At first he thought it was his head because he had gotten ill advisedly drunk the night before, but when he closed his eyes and lay still, the banging continued. It sounded like someone was using a battering ram on his poor door.  
“Alright! I’m coming!” Arthur yelled and immediately wished he hadn’t. But the banging stopped. That was a plus. He stumbled out of bed and into the hallway. It was dark and he tripped on his cat (Lancelot) and ran into the door. Lancelot hissed and stalked away, sleepy and with wounded dignity. Arthur didn’t bother looking through the peephole, but opened the door enough to look out. “Hello?”  
“Hey!” Merlin poked his face into Arthur’s blurry line of vision. “Wow, you look awful.”  
“You sure know how to-” Arthur started before shaking his head, “What are you doing at my place at three in the morning?”  
“Um, well, you know...”  
“Morgana?” Arthur sighed. Merlin nodded, looking embarrassed.  
“She changed all the locks on my flat and told my flat-share that if she let me in, she’d make it impossible for her to get a job anywhere ever.”  
“You have a flatmate?”  
“Yeah,” Merlin nodded, “She’s great. Her name’s Gwen, and she’s absurdly nice. Anyway, I figure I might as well do what Morgana wanted and come here.”  
“You haven’t even thought about resisting, have you?” Arthur closed the door just enough to disengage the chain lock before opening it up again. “You might as well come in.”  
“It’s not that I haven’t entertained the thought of resisting Morgana; it’s just that it’s easier not to,” Merlin explained as he walked past Arthur, surveying the place like he was out to buy it.  
“Even when she makes so much trouble for you?”  
“Well,” Merlin shrugged, “Other than the fact that Morgana is crazy and controlling, how is the idea a bad one?” He was being way too casual about it for Arthur, who preferred making a fuss and resisting until Morgana gave up. And then Arthur realized something through the haze of hung-over, sleep-deprived irritability.  
“You know what? I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that and go back to bed. Feel free to crash on the couch.” Merlin smiled (how was he so fucking happy at three int he morning?) and Arthur made good on his announcement by traipsing back to his room where he curled up in his bed (which was cold thanks to Merlin showing up, and Arthur wished Merlin would make it warm again, but he should really stop that sort of thinking).  
“Hey, you’re couch is really lumpy,” Merlin whispered as he slipped in behind Arthur. Arthur glared in a tried sort of way.  
“Gonna kill Morgana,” he grumbled, his words slurred with oncoming sleep. “An’ maybe you.”  
Merlin grinned, his face laying right next to Arthur’s. Arthur hoped he was there come morning; he would teach Merlin not to torment him.

* * *

  
“Were you having a good dream last night?” Merlin asked. Arthur stared at him, paused in the middle of putting his robe on. Merlin flipped the pancake over. 

Merlin was making pancakes. 

****

Merlin was in Arthur’s kitchen. 

****

Making pancakes. 

****

In Arthur’s kitchen.

****

Pancakes.

****

Arthur thought he could hear his brain shorting out as his thoughts ran in really small circles. Merlin raised his eye brows questioningly at Arthur. Arthur melted inside.

****

“Um, good dream?” he managed to ask.

****

“You were smiling when I woke up.”

****

“How do you manage to get up so early?” Arthur asked, trying to avoid the topic of his dream. He didn’t remember much more than a warm, fuzzy feeling and Merlin, flushed, with his head thrown back, baring his neck.

****

Arthur snuck a look at Merlin. He did have a nice neck: long and pale and smooth. Arthur banged his head on the table.

****

“You’re killing brain cells when you do that,” Merlin commented, sitting a plate of pancakes in front of Arthur. Arthur groaned and grabbed his fork, hurriedly stuffing a bite of pancakes into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to answer Merlin. Maybe if he killed enough brain cells, he’d be immune to Merlin. Arthur took another look at Merlin’s ass. Or maybe not.

****

Merlin sat down with his own plate of pancakes, across the table from Arthur. They ate in silence. Every time Arthur tore his eyes away from his pancakes to glance at Merlin, Merlin was gazing resolutely at his own breakfast.

****

* * *

  
Every time Merlin looked up at Arthur, the blond man was looking at his pancakes like he wanted to murder them. Merlin, who knew Morgana Pendragon very well, took the murderous glare to mean that Arthur really liked his pancakes. Arthur stabbed another bite viciously. _He must really, really like pancakes_ , Merlin thought.

* * *

  
Arthur really liked Merlin’s pancakes. He was doomed.

* * *

  
_“The way into Arthur’s heart is pancakes?”  
“Apparently.”  
“Can’t you just jump him already?”  
“Target distance at eight hundred twenty meters. Adjusting five degrees by point oh nine degrees. Wind four kilometers west liable to shift two kilometers east. Movement of target fifty per hour, will arrive at destination in two minutes four seconds. Taking the shot.”  
“Don’t miss.”  
“I never do.”_

* * *

  
“Why are you so tired?” Arthur asked as he handed Merlin his mug of steaming hot chocolate (Merlin didn’t drink coffee).  
“Just got back from work.” Merlin took the mug with a quiet murmur of thanks. Merlin had basically taken over Arthur’s flat in the past four days, and Arthur had gotten used to him, to an extent (meaning he could actually have a conversation without being swamped by perverted thoughts; he still had them, they just didn’t overwhelm him anymore).  
“You just got back from work?” Arthur was clearly surprised. “It’s six in the morning.”  
“When you work for Morgana, you sign up for the most fucked up working hours on the planet.”  
“Good to know,” Arthur commented dryly, sitting down on the new couch next to Merlin. Morgana had had it delivered the day after Merlin showed up. Knowing Morgana, it was probably the most expensive brand known to man, and it had a fold out bed that Merlin was using. Arthur had been shocked; he hadn’t thought Morgana would do anything to keep Merlin out of Arthur’s bed, but there it was.

Not that he was disappointed. 

****

No, he was not. 

****

Really, he wasn’t.

****

Nope, not at all.

****

...

****

Arthur was disappointed.

****

He was horribly disappointed.

****

He wanted Merlin.

****

He wanted Merlin in his bed.

****

Naked.

****

Arthur sighed in defeat.

****

* * *

  
Merlin was convinced that the way into Arthur’s heart (and his ass) was through pancakes. The man ate more pancakes than Merlin’s pet elephant did. (Or would, if he had a pet elephant.)

And wasn’t sure what Morgana was up to anymore. 

****

Which was bad.

****

Very bad.

****

Especially when Arthur’s cat Lancelot spent a lot of time watching Merlin, which reminded Merlin what Arthur had said about the cat being a turn-coat and loving Morgana. 

****

The fourth day Merlin was staying with Arthur, Gwen brought some of his clean clothes over. Merlin set aside his mug of hot chocolate and raced to the door.

****

“Gwen!” he hugged the startled woman. “You don’t know how much I missed you. And clean clothes!” He took the bag Gwen held out to him. “Come in and meet Arthur,” he invited.

****

“Oh, I don’t know... Morgana...”

****

“Leave Morgana to me, come on.” Merlin almost had to drag Gwen inside. Arthur waved from the couch and Gwen gave him a shy smile.

****

“So you must be Arthur. Morgana showed up at our flat the other day saying you needed to get laid so I was going to change all the locks and not let Merlin in. She scared me half to death.”

****

“Sorry about that,” Arthur said with a pained smile.

****

“Oh, kitty!” Gwen bent down to rub Lancelot who was twining around her ankles. Arthur frowned. Ever since Morgana, Lancelot had kept to himself when she was gone. Arthur grinned.

****

“I think Lancelot just changed sides again,” Arthur said, directing his words at Merlin, who was also grinning.

****

“He’s such a handsome cat,” Gwen purred, rubbing her nose against Lancelot’s pink one. “So Arthur, do you know what Merlin does for Morgana?”

****

“No, unfortunately. They’re both very secretive.”

****

“Merlin? Secretive?” Gwen snorted. “Merlin couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.”

****

“Well, neither of us know, so maybe he can,” Arthur pointed out. Both Gwen and Arthur turned on Merlin who held his hands up defensively.

****

“I can’t tell you!” he protested as Gwen advanced on him, Lancelot behind her.

****

“So tell us what division you’re in,” Arthur suggested.

****

“Um, long distance relations,” Merlin told them after a moment's thought. “There’s not much to talk about.” Inside, Merlin winced. He had never liked lying, and he wasn’t very good at it. But because it wasn’t really a lie, they bought it and changed the subject.

****

“You run the Camelot Books?” Gwen asked Arthur, awed.

****

“Yeah.”

****

“But your father’s Prime Minister isn’t he? And he let you start a bookstore?”

****

“He didn’t have much choice after I threatened to run away and become a gay version of Bonnie and Clyde with the first punk rocker I met at a bar.”

****

“You didn’t,” Gwen gasped.

****

“No, I didn’t,” Arthur agreed cheerfully. “My father is actually a lot nicer than he seems. And we are not going to talk about him because he has a way of showing up when we do. It’s like ‘speak of the devil’, but a lot more accurate.”

****

There was a knock on the door. 

****

Arthur sighed and got up to answer it. 

****

It was his father.

****

Uthur held up a bottle of fine wine and a plate of handmade cookies.

****

“I heard from Morgana that you had a new boyfriend so I came to meet him!” Uthur announced cheerfully.

****

Arthur sighed in defeat.

****

* * *

  
Uthur really liked Merlin. As in, he REALLY liked him. Arthur could almost see the wedding plans rolling around in his father’s head. Arthur tried really hard not to die of embarrassment as Merlin and Uthur talked about politics. He had almost succeeded when Morgana showed up. Arthur wanted the couch to swallow him up.  
And Merlin and Gwen were Uthur’s new favorite “friends of Arthur”.  
And Merlin wanted Uthur’s recipe for the snicker-doodles.  
And Morgana kept directing thinly veiled innuendos at Arthur about the couch she had bought him for Merlin.  
And all Arthur wanted was for everyone to go away (except maybe Merlin) and leave him in peace (so he could wank while thinking about Merlin).  
In the end, everyone did leave (except for Merlin).  
And Arthur still didn’t get any peace.  
Because Merlin had taken it upon himself to bake every pastry known to bachelor. Or so it seemed to Arthur when he woke up the next morning, his mouth watering, the scent of sugar permeating the flat.

Arthur wandered into the kitchen. (He wandered because he didn’t want to seem too eager to see what Merlin was up to.)

****

His eyes went wide.

****

Every surface available was covered with sweets. Arthur thought he counted four different cakes, each professionally draped with fondant (There was a pound cake dribbled with sugar glaze too). There were countless numbers of cookies of every kind, though the most prevalent was snicker-doodle, and several dozen creme puffs, strawberry and black cherry tarts, and a bowl of warm beignets sprinkled with powdered sugar that Merlin was eating.

****

“Um,” Arthur cleared his throat. Merlin glanced up at him, sighed morosely, and held out a beignet for Arthur to try. He did. It melted in his mouth. Arthur’s brain melted. He looked at Merlin, who was being gloomy and depressed. His heart broke.

****

Arthur finished his beignet and kissed Merlin. 

****

He prepared for the worst.

****

Merlin jumped him.

****

* * *

  
“What were you making all those sweets for? We’re going to be eating cake and cookies for a year.”  
“I was bored and tired and sad. Baking helps me relax,” Merlin explained, hugging his pillow as Arthur kneaded the (admittedly) very tense muscles in Merlin’s back.  
“You’re such a girl,” Arthur teased.  
“Says the man who bottomed,” Merlin teased back.  
“Morgana will never let us hear the end of this, you realize.”  
“We don’t have to tell her,” Merlin offered hopefully.  
“We don’t have to bother; she already knows. And if she doesn’t, she must be getting slow.”  
“Yeah, I know,” Merlin sighed. “We’re doomed, aren’t we?”  
“Yes, we are.”  
“Want to fuck again?”  
“Sure.”

* * *

  
“When do you think they’ll want to get married?” Uther was asking Morgana, who was taking another long draw from her electronic cigarette (because she refused to smoke for real).  
“I’d give it a few months, daddy,” she replied. She set aside the electronic cigarette so she could dismantle her gun and rub oil into the moving parts.  
“But it would be so very nice to have a summer wedding. What about next month?”  
“Like I said, daddy, give them a few months. Merlin still hasn’t told Arthur about his job, and Arthur can’t hear it from anyone except Merlin,” Morgana said, effectively cutting off her father’s plan to tell Arthur about Merlin.  
“How long has this Merlin been working for you again?”  
“Going on four years now.”  
“And you haven’t introduced them before now, why? I could have had a son-in-law by now.”  
“Because Arthur had to hit rock bottom before he would even look at someone I threw at him.”  
“He’s always been stubborn,” Uthur agreed. “What do you think the chances are that I can persuade him to propose to Merlin soon?”  
“Close to none,” Morgana smiled fondly at Uthur as the older man mused his grey hair, trying to think of a way to organize a summer wedding. “You should give up for now, daddy.”

* * *

  
Uthur was not going to give up. He wanted a summer wedding for his sons, and he was damn well going to get it.  (Yes, he thought of Merlin as his son already because there was no way Arthur was going to let him get away.) Uthur didn’t doubt that Merlin could be persuaded to aim for a summer wedding. The only wild card was Arthur. And Merlin’s job. 

* * *

  
Lancelot was a cat. He liked being a cat. He liked Morgana, who gave him lots of soft, little, chicken liver treats. He liked Gwen who would pet him whenever she came over and let him sit on her stomach. He liked Merlin who would slip him bits of ham or chicken during supper.  
He didn’t like Arthur who tended to toss and turn in bed and dislodge Lancelot from his sleeping spot. Lancelot had long since given up sleeping on a bed. He contented himself with the couch Morgana had brought him. It was a good couch. Plush, but without the tendency to swallow small, furry creatures.   
Not that Lancelot was small. No, he was a good sized cat, with a heavy, soft pelt and lots of muscles underneath. And claws. Lancelot had claws. He liked his claws. He could hurt Arthur with his claws whenever the stupid human stepped on his tail. Lancelot liked his tail. He didn’t like Arthur. Neither did his tail.   
Lancelot didn’t like it when Merlin and Arthur spent time together. They were loud and rough. They disturbed his naps. And occasionally forgot to feed him.  
Lancelot didn’t mind; he knew how to open the fridge. So whenever Arthur forgot to feed him, he raided the meat drawer. Lancelot had a liking for salami. And ham. And turkey. And hot dogs.  
One day, when Gwen was over, and Lancelot was purring happily in her lap, Arthur said something. Lancelot glared at Arthur; he didn’t like it when Arthur spoke. Gwen responded. Merlin looked a little disturbed. Lancelot looked at Gwen; nothing Gwen could say would make Merlin unhappy, so it must’ve been Arthur’s fault. Lancelot glared at Arthur.  
That day, Lancelot went home with Gwen.

* * *

  
“Hey, Arthur?”  
“Yeah?”  
“You love me, yeah?”  
“Definitely, yeah.”  
“So if I told you I sniped gangsters for a living, you’d still love me?”  
“Yep.”  
“So even though I went out last night and shot a man in the head, you still love me?”  
“Yep.”  
“So if I told you I can kill a man from over eight hundred meters away, in the dead of night, you’re okay with it?”  
“Yep.”  
“I can kill a man with my bare hands. Morgana insisted.”  
“Cool. So long as you don’t kill the guys in pubs when they hit on me.”  
“Are you even listening, prat?”  
“I am.”  
“And you’re totally okay with the fact that I kill people for Morgana and the government?”  
“Morgana is the government.”  
“I shoot people.”  
“Yes, you do.”  
“You forgive me?”  
“Were they mean people?”  
“Well, they’re not very nice.”  
“Drugs?”  
“Yes, and prostitution, and murder, and torture.”  
“They cop killers?’  
“Some.”  
“So you’re doing the world a favor.”  
“You could say so.”  
“Nothing to forgive then.”  
“Are you drunk?”  
“MERLIN! YOU’RE FIRED!” Morgana shouted as she burst into their apartment. Merlin and Arthur looked up and stared at her from where they were curled up on the couch together. “Don’t worry,” Morgana went on, nonplussed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, and I can still take you on for freelance jobs, but I found a replacement.”  
“Why did you need a replacement?” Merlin asked, curious.  
“Well, you’re getting married, aren’t you?” Merlin nodded. “And I can’t keep you out all night or Arthur will never give me a family discount at Camelot Books again.”  
“Damn right, I won’t,” Arthur scowled. Merlin punched his arm playfully.  
“Who’s the replacement?”  
“His name’s Percival, but he says I can call him Percy.” Morgana smiled happily.  
“He’s straight isn’t he?” Merlin asked, catching up with Morgana’s train of thought more quickly than can be considered healthy (or at least Arthur thought so).  
“So fucking straight,” Morgana replied, doing a strange wiggle with her hips that Arthur turned green just thinking about.  
“He’s a good shot, is he?”  
“Not as good as you are, of course, but so, so close.” 

Merlin grinned.

****

Arthur winced.

****

“When’s the wedding?” Morgana asked.

****

“Summer.”

****


End file.
